Good Old Fashioned Lover Boys
by Sweet Honey-sempai
Summary: A two part RonxLuna and HarryxHermione story. Titles based on Queen songs. Complete!
1. Somebody To Love

Disclaimer-I don't own anything 

A/N-This switches back and forth between POV's. First is Luna's, then Ron's.

A/N #2-Luna's and the other Weasley brothers' middle names are my own.

A/N #3-Color Scheme: **Red: Excitement, energy, passion, desire, speed, strength, power, heat, love, aggression, danger, fire, blood, war, violence, intensity.** _Blue: Peace, tranquillity, calm, stability, harmony, unity, trust, truth, confidence, conservatism, security, cleanliness, order, loyalty, sky, water, cold, technology, depression, appetite suppressant._ Green: Nature, environment, healthy, good luck, renewal, youth, vigor, spring, generosity, fertility, jealousy, inexperience, envy, misfortune. Black: Power, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil, anonymity, unhappiness, depth, style, evil, sadness, remorse, anger, underground, good technical color, mourning, death.

A/N #4-This is based on the Queen song "Somebody to Love"

* * *

Somebody To Love

* * *

My name is Luna Selena Nokomis Cynthia Diana Artemis Tsuki Gwendolyn Phoebe Lovegood. Known as "Looney" by some of my housemates. Actually, pretty much all of them. Even Ginny, whom I consider my best friend, refers to me as "Looney" sometimes.

I don't let it bother me often. My mother (Her name was Diana Phoebe Jones-Lovegood) told me to never care about what anyone said about me, unless I believed it, too. My beauty was more than just my silvery eyes that take up most of my face, or my scraggly gray-blonde hair, or my gangly body that never comes together gracefully.

Okay, I admit it. I'm full-blown outwardly ugly. That's what happens when a girl spends all her time tramping around the woods surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole instead of staying indoors and pampering herself like the Patil twins.

But I certainly enjoyed my time out there, looking for Beefer Bugs and Crumple-Horned Snorcacks and Heliopaths and anything else they said was discovered. It's fun to believe in everything.

And I admit it, I have a hard time believing in myself, sometimes.

* * *

My full name is Ronald Bilius Weasley. I prefer being known as Ron. First chance I get, I'm getting rid of that middle name. Nice thing to have, named after a guy who saw a Grim and died. Maybe I'll change it to Rupert or something. I always liked that name.

As the least of a bunch of brothers, I guess I got stuck with the dumb name. Bill's got "Jacob", Charlie's got "Leonard", Percy's got "Ignatius" (Which is stupid in its own right, but it's better than "Bilius") Fred's got "Isaac", and George's got "Edward" (See commentary on "Ignatius"). I normally get stuck with a lot of stuff I didn't or don't want. The two things I can call my own are my Chudley Cannons poster and my Comet.

Is there some kind of curse in my family? Five sons and then pfft! The last one gets hand-me-downs. Even Ginny gets better stuff than I do, probably because she's the baby and the only girl.

And it's not just things, either. Most of my siblings have significant others, too. Bill has Fleur, Percy's got Penelope (How that happened is known only to God), Fred's got Angelina, and Ginny's got Dean (Though I think she dumped him for Colin Creevy). I have a feeling that Charlie's got a girlfriend in Romania, and George could quite easily snag Alicia Spinnet or Katie Bell if he tried.

Me? I've had two crushes in all my life. Fleur Delacour (Passing thing, though, didn't last more than a month, really) and Hermione Granger.

I should probably start calling her "Hermione Potter" now. She fawns all over him, not physically, but emotionally. If we're ever alone together, all she can do is talk about him. It gets really annoying to hear your crush talk endlessly about your best friend.

Sigh. What's a guy to do?

* * *

It's only been two days into my 5th year and I'm already swamped with work. Quite honestly, I'm not too worried about them. I always pull through my tests somehow or another. I don't put much stock in graded tests. Sometimes I ask myself why I'm in Ravenclaw. Maybe I have some kind of philosophical intelligence rather than academic. I'll ask the Sorting Hat whenever I get a chance.

Having nothing to do with academia gives me chances to observe other people. I love to observe people out on the grounds, which is where most of us are on this Saturday afternoon. I often watch Gryffindors. Most Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws all seem to be very similar, but Gryffindors are fascinating because they're so very different from each other. I like to watch The Golden Trio, as they're known about school, the best.

I find it highly interesting to see that Harry still has no idea that Hermione adores him. Should I mention it? No, that'd be too pretentious and they'd deny it. I'll just wait until they get brave enough.

Ronald is my favorite out of all three. I once heard an artist speak of people having colors in them. When I see Ronald, I see a veritable rainbow. But they all happen at different times. I see red at his Quidditch matches, black when he's upset or annoyed, blue with his friends. But underneath it all is a beautiful shade of green.

He's looking at me, just as I am him. He makes that face at me, and he's suddenly black in spiritual color.

I wonder what colors he sees when he looks at me. Or if he even sees color. Perhaps he simply sees Looney Lovegood. I sincerely hope not.

* * *

She's staring at me. Again. It's like she's stalking me. Except she hasn't sent me any threatening letters or left a horse's head in my bed, so I guess she's not dangerous.

Why is she so fascinated with me? Does she want to be my girlfriend or something? Is she trying to psychoanalyze me? Like I'm all that deep a person?

I'm taken from my thoughts by Hermione's laughter. Harry has just said something to make her laugh. I don't think I've ever made her laugh in my life. In fact, I think I've only made her happy once, when I offered to help with Buckbeak's trial.

It looks like fun, having somebody who really likes you and thinks you're hysterical and all that lovey-dovey stuff.

I gotta get out of here before they start snogging.

"I'll see you guys later, I gotta do something for a bit," I say, standing up.

"Where you going, Ron?" Harry asked.

"For a walk."

Harry knows that "for a walk" is usually code for something that I don't want to discuss, and he has enough tact to let me go. Hermione waves me off with a "'Bye," and a smile, but nothing else. Even the smile is lacking in something. It's different than when she looks at Harry.

Yeesh. Good-bye, now.

I walk away.

* * *

Ronald is leaving, and his aura is just screaming black. He looks so very upset, though no one pays any mind. Nobody seems to care about him. They really only care about who he's friends with. The famous Harry Potter. I have nothing against Harry, but when you compare Ronald to that infamous light that always engulfs Harry, I can't help but be upset.

I feel it so very often with myself, too. Nobody seems to care about me, either. Mommy sincerely cared, but she's been gone for 6 years. Daddy is so distracted without her; he's distant and prefers his solitude to my company. I have no friends outside of Ginny, and no acquaintances outside of Ronald, Harry, Hermione, and Neville. In fact, I only know so much about people because I observe them from the sidelines, not because they've ever opened up to me.

There's a price to pay for being one's self. I decided long ago that it was worth any cost to be Luna, and not another Parvati or Lavender or Cho, but it's just…really lonely sometimes.

"Hiya, Looney!"

Some boy knocks my books from my hands and scatters them across the grass.

I should be used to this. In fact, I am. But how people can be so purposely cruel to someone else…I just don't understand.

My eyes are wet; I can tell. I call for Mommy but she doesn't come. Why won't she ever come? I believe in her so much, but I can never feel her anymore.

"Aww, Looney's crying," his friend says. "You shouldn't be so mean, Draco."

Mommy, please…please come…

* * *

"Back off, Ferret Face."

I cannot believe I am coming to the aide of Luna Lovegood. But when it's against Draco Malfoy, I'll be allies to anyone.

"Weasel!" Draco pronounces. "I offer my congratulations. A rodent and a moonstruck freak. Match made in Heaven."

"Draco! That was almost like humor!"

He's stunned at that, so I have the advantage.

"Do you know why you'd be so easy to operate on, Malfoy?" I press on. "'Cause you've got no brain, no spine, no guts, and no heart. Plus, your head and buttocks are interchangeable."

I duck instinctively and narrowly miss a shot to the head. I dig out my wand.

"_Tarentellegra_!"

That one never, ever, fails to crack me up. I snicker as I watch his legs dance, and even at the strings of cusses that escape his mouth as his minions drag him away.

"What a git, eh?" I say as I turn around.

And she's STILL crying. Lordy, lordy, what did I do now?

* * *

"Did he hurt you?" Ronald asks me.

I shake my head. "He just knocked my books from my hand." I kneel to pick them up.

He gets down, too. "Then why are you still crying?"

I shake my head again. "I don't know. This happens all the time, I don't normally mind very much, but today I just…"

"People do this to you all the time?"

I nod.

"Does anyone know about this?" He face is turning bright red. So is his aura.

"Harry does. And, of course, the people who do it."

"That's…that's…why don't you tell the professors!"

"It won't change anything. They'll still do it. And I'd rather they reform on their own than stop because they were reprimanded. I mean, it's not like you've changed their hearts, have you? You've just given them fear of punishment."

"If you're so convicted, why are you still crying over it?"

"Because…because why would they do it in the first place!"

I can feel myself getting worked up again. I promised myself I'd never explode like this, not after everything with Mommy…

"Why would they want to hurt me? Why would anyone be so thoughtlessly cruel? Why would anyone want to mix up my mother's potions ingredients so they exploded and killed her? Why!"

"Luna, Luna, hey!"

His hands are on my shoulders and he's shaking me. I can't believe I just told him all about the so-called "accident" that was really first-degree murder.

"What's this about a potions accident?"

I look away. "My mother was experimenting in medicinal potions. She was working on a potion to cure the patients who had been permanently damaged by the Cruciatus Curse. Someone switched her hellebore with aconite and when you put aconite with undiluted dragon blood…she was working to help people! Why would they kill her!"

I can't see because of the tears in my eyes, but I can certainly feel his hand roughly massaging my shoulder. I grab his shirt and pull myself into his chest. He twitches, but has enough grace not to pull away.

* * *

Luna Lovegood is crying into my shirt. People are staring and whispering amongst themselves. And she doesn't notice, or if she does, she doesn't care.

How can she live with day after day of being so totally open in her beliefs and getting ridiculed for her pains? How does she live with all the whispers and stares? And how does she live with knowing her mum was murdered for being the exact same as her?

I can't believe it, but I'm toying with her hair.

Since when were we so friendly, anyway? I've only known her through Ginny for the past year, even though she seems to know me better. She's the only one who sings "Weasley Is Our King" without any malice in her voice and oddly enough, I don't even mind when she sings it. She's got a beautiful First Soprano voice.

Whoa. Did I just think that?

This is Looney Lovegood we're talking about. Looney…no. LUNA Lovegood. Only gits like Malfoy would call her "Looney".

Lord, this whole day has just thrown me off.

"It's…okay, Luna," I say, and my hands moves on its own to rub her back.

* * *

I have to stop crying. I HAVE stopped crying. I can finally pull away.

As I wipe my eyes, I am suddenly painfully aware of all the eyes looking at us, especially those of Harry and Hermione's.

I wipe my eyes with my shirt. "Thank you, Ronald."

"Ron. Just Ron."

"Okay, Just Ron."

He gives me a strange look. It's not black. It's difficult to place this one.

"I know, I know, that was almost like humor," I say, smiling.

He surprises me by smiling back. It's a little wistful grin but it's still a smile. The green is showing through again. Ron is truly green.

"You gonna be all right?" he asks.

I nod. "I shall be okay now."

"Well…that's good."

He rises.

"Wait!"

My hand shoots out and grabs his just as he's about to turn away. I can't stand for him to walk away; not now that I've bared my soul to him.

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay, please, for a bit, with me?"

He gives me another strange look, and pulls his hand from me. I feel like I'm dying…

But he sits down next to me. Oh, praise be! Mommy, are you watching me? Please be watching me now!

"Oh, THANK YOU, Ron!" I say, a little more breathlessly than he was expecting, I can tell, because he looks a little bit put out.

* * *

I can't believe I'm sitting with Luna Lovegood of all people on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. And I can't believe I don't regret it, either. Even when I think of the rib-nudging and condescending winking I'll get from Seamus and Dean, the relationship lecture from Hermione, the underground teasing from Harry, and especially the torment from Fred and George, it seems like nothing compared to what Luna has had to go through. If someone purposely killed my mother or father… Luna's hand is in mine. Not in the friend way, with just palms together, but with fingers interlaced. She's starting to make me nervous…

Now she's resting her head on my shoulder. For having such scraggly hair, it smells nice. Like incense. I bet she burns it.

"Ron," she whispers, so I can just barely hear her, "you're such a beautiful shade of green."

I have no idea what she's talking about.

For once, though, I really don't care.


	2. Play The Game

Disclaimer-I don't own Harry Potter or the song. They belong to JK Rowling and Queen, respectively

A/N-Same deal as "Somebody to Love", switching POVs starting with Hermione. Based on the Queen song "Play The Game."

Backstory-This fics leads straight from "Somebody To Love", which is Ron/Luna. We left off with Harry and Hermione watching from underneath a tree as Draco insulted Luna. Ron stuck up for Luna and fought Draco off. Luna, consequently, spilled her guts to Ron about herself and her mother's death, and Ron agreed to stay with Luna for awhile until she feels better. Luna goes further—she takes his hand and leans her head on his shoulder—but oddly enough, Ron doesn't mind.

* * *

Play The Game

* * *

I had no idea the Ron could be so mature and nurturing. For once, Luna's eccentric goings-on didn't scare him off. Perhaps if I brought out that side in Ron, I could love him.

I only seem to bring out the worst in him. I know that I antagonize him, and that he antagonizes me, and we bicker so often and so furiously. God help us if he had come clean about his feelings for me before this Luna incident.

"You're quiet, Hermione, that's not like you," Harry says.

My Harry. No, not "My" Harry. I wish he were, though.

Over the past 5 years that we've been friends I've seen Harry in all his shades: Happiness, sadness, humor, anger, playfulness, seriousness. Contradictions that would make even an Aquarius-born reel around, confused.

I hate it that Harry can't see that all his moods are perfect to me because they're HIS. I don't know if I could tolerate them in anyone else. I certainly can't handle some of them in Ron. But everything about Harry is beautiful to me.

* * *

What a stupid thing to say. I might as well have been picking my nose while I said it. Smooth, Harry, real smooth.

You know, in a way I admire Luna. This past year she was obvious about her feelings for Ron, and just now was the great giant leap over the canyon, and I'd say she landed, effectively killing the rattlesnake on the other side. What an analogy, huh?

I have not had that kind of luck in my romantic endeavors. The whole Cho fiasco. Good God. A horrible date topped off by a fight over some traitor. Not to mention the whole Yule Ball-Parvati Patil thing.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?" she answers, looking at me.

"Am I un-dateable?"

She has the weirdest look on her face. Stupid, stupid Harry. Why do you always ask Hermione such stupid questions?

"What do you mean?" she asks. Thank God I asked her. Had I asked any other girl, they'd have immediately spread the word that Harry Potter is a psychotic loner out to destroy romance in all its forms.

"I mean, is there something about me that repels girls? I mean, you know those two dates I had with Parvati or Cho…"

"I don't see how you can say that, Harry!" she yells. She looks angry for some reason. "You just haven't met the right girl, that's all! I mean, maybe you need someone who isn't thinking about the next boy on her waiting list…"

She cuts herself off and clamps her hand over her mouth, blushing. I've never noticed how cute she is when she does that.

Whoa. Did that just run through my brain?

* * *

I might as well just hang a sign saying "Hermione Granger loves Harry Potter" around my neck in blaring neon colors. I cannot believe I just talked about his former love interests like that. Now I'm a catty, bitter, stereotypical blonde.

But I really can't help it. Parvati annoyed me at the Yule Ball. I was having a good time with Viktor and then I saw them dancing and it ruined it. Poor Viktor, I was so distracted that I had to send him off for drinks to avoid snapping at him.

And Harry's date with Cho was horrible for me, too. I wanted so badly for Harry to be happy that I didn't even raise a fuss, but I guess I squashed all my efforts by setting up that interview. No matter what any gossipmonger girls say, I did not do that to ruin Harry's date. It's unfortunate that I did.

Is it really, though? Would Cho really be able to make Harry happy?

I have to say that I don't think so. Harry needs some stability. I wouldn't be surprised if Cho was listed as clinically depressed, and I wouldn't even bat an eye if Harry was put on the same list. They can't help each other; they can barely function together as friends, let alone boyfriend/girlfriend.

But Harry and I…are we any different?

* * *

Hermione has got quite an emotional edge to her. It amazes me that such a bookworm can be so dramatic sometimes. She has the uncanny ability for sarcasm and exaggeration. Normally that'd tick me off, but it's easy to accept it from her, because she always deflects it with whatever kind of apology or help that she can give.

But she's upset. I know the look of upset firsthand—the look of having something bottled up inside you and unable to tell it for fear of anything—reprisal, humiliation, anger, sadness. I feel it every day at the Durselys'.

"Hey, Hermione, you okay? Is anything wrong?"

* * *

Harry has just me if anything is wrong. Yes, of course, something's wrong. I've been in love with him since first year and I still have not said one peep.

Why am I such an idiot about it? I have no trouble telling people exactly what I think of them—something that often brings me to ruin, know that I'm thinking about it. Oh, Good Lord, that's it. I'm afraid it'll bring me to ruin.

I'm being unreasonable and I know it, but when I see how his break-up with Cho went I can't help but feel nervous. They don't even speak anymore; they can barely make eye contact. I don't want that. I don't want to risk it.

And yet…and yet…

* * *

"Oh, nothing's wrong, Harry," Hermione says. But she's shifty when she says it. Quirrel-like, in fact. Geh. I'll run away screaming if I see another Quirrel.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Um…well…"

That's not the answer I was expecting. She's beginning to scare me here. She won't even look me in the face.

"Did Malfoy do something to you, like with Luna? Did he threaten you or anything?" I will kill that ferret if he's said or done anything to her…

"No, Harry, just his usual "Filthy mudblood" routine," she answers, but she still won't face me.

"Is this about the…the Ministry or anything?" I ask. I'm babbling, I know, and that's probably not it, either. I have a hard time remembering the Ministry, watching Sirius…I can barely bring myself to think it.

Hermione almost died, too. I remember feeling myself stop breathing when I saw her fall; I nearly puked in relief when Neville said she was okay.

"It's not about that. And don't think about it, either."

That surprises me. Usually she wants me to talk about my feelings. She's a Virgo; they're communicative.

Y'know, I've never really heard Hermione talk about her own feelings before. Always mine. Like when she dragged me out of the room in Grimmauld when I thought I was possessed. Or when I was going spare about the whole Cho thing.

"Well, I'll try not to."

Good God. I might as well start picking my nose right now.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, okay!"

"Well, for God's sake, Hermione, why are you ignoring me!" I shout back. People are staring at us now, just like they were staring at Ron and Luna.

She turns around, and I'm startled out of yelling. She's crying. I hate it when she cries. She just looks so helpless and forlorn. Why am I the one making her cry?

"H-hey, I'm sorry, I…"

She's crying harder now. I want to tell off each and every person who's staring right now. Mind your own business, for God's sakes! Don't you people have lives!

Oh. I did just yell it out. Now everyone's looking at me funny.

But Hermione's laughing. She's laughing and crying at the same time. She's so aggravatingly quirky like that.

* * *

Harry's adorable when he's irrationally angry like that, and I have to admit, I want to yell at the people who stare at us, too.

"Her-Hermione, seriously, tell me what's wrong," Harry says, bringing his full attention back to me.

I'm still giggling and crying at the same time. What a mess I am. I wipe my eyes and try to stop giggling. I must look a fright to him, but he still looks at me. That's one reason why I love Harry; he takes me seriously.

"Come on, Hermione, tell me what's the matter or I'll…I'll…purposely fail all my N.E.W.T.s."

"You wouldn't dare!" I say, laughing and letting a few tears leak out. I wipe them away, too.

He's not giving up. He wants to know what's what, just like I do. All right, time to stop being a sobbing, hysterical teenage girl. Suck it up, Hermione, you're about to drop the bomb.

"The problem is that I love you, Harry, and I haven't said anything until now!"

* * *

Oh…my…God. My best girl friend has just told me that she loves me. And all I can manage is a…

"Whaplehhuh?"

Oh, very smooth, Harry, very smooth.

Her face is a tomato. She's so cute when she blushes…okay, stop that now.

"Well…yes. Yes, Harry, I love you. I want to be your girlfriend. I've wanted to be since first year. Strange how gratitude changes to love, isn't it? I wouldn't be here if you hadn't saved me from the troll, you know."

She's babbling, too. I know Babble-Tongue; it's my native language.

"Hermione. Hermione, stop." I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I knew it!"

I drop my hand. She jumps up, absolutely furious.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! How could you possibly love me, Hermione Granger, who can barely look up from a book for ten seconds to acknowledge her own feelings!"

"Hermione, wait a tick!" I say.

"Stay away from me!" she screeches. She looks ready to scratch out my eyes, but here goes nothing…

"Hermione, I…said…wait!"

I finally have a hold on her arm and am pulling her back down. Good Lord, she slaps pretty hard. I can't get her around to face me. Come on Harry, like a big, angry Snitch. Get a hold…dodge the Bludgers…

And…I'm kissing her.

* * *

Harry is an extremely good kisser.

He's finally letting me breathe. He hung on to that kiss for far longer than he needed to. Like he enjoyed it.

"Did you just do that?"

"Well, um…well, yeah," he says, and now it's his turn to blush. "I didn't want you to walk away mad at me or anything."

"Did the thought of me being angry at you affect you that much?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, you're my Hermione, my best girl friend. Honestly, could we function without you?"

"Could you function without me?" I ask. "Just you, Harry? If it was just you and I, could you live without me?"

"I…I…I don't think…so. No."

"You can't imagine life without me."

"Well, I can, but it turns out to be pretty horrible."

Silly boy. Now I'm crying again.

* * *

Life without Hermione. Honestly; I'd probably be dead by now. I'd have suffocated under Devil's Snare first off. If I'd survived that, I'd have never met Sirius or given him the chance to be freed. And even if that happened, I'd probably have been fried by a dragon or whatever other creature in 4th year. Or I'd still be believing that I was possessed. And I'd have flunked out of every class I'd ever taken.

"Harry, we've avoided the issue," she says uncertainly. I hate it when she's uncertain, too, for the exact same reason that I hate it when she cries. "You just kissed me after I told you that I love you. What does that mean for us? Do you…do you love me too?"

"Do I love you?" I repeat. "Well…well, yeah."

"I mean, not as your best friend. I mean, as in…boyfriend-girlfriend. Marriage. That kind of love." Her face is bright pink again.

Do I love Hermione?

"Harry, just what about me makes you love me as a friend?" she asks slowly.

"W-well," I say, "The fact that you're intelligent and…and kind and brave and loyal. You never take no for an answer, and…you keep me from getting depressed…"

She makes a small noise. She remembers Christmas last year.

"And you're so passionate about everything," I race on. "And that's annoying but kinda c-cute at the same time. And you're not afraid of being my friend and I'm not just The-Boy-Who-Lived to you. W-why do you love me as a friend or a…a boyfriend?"

"Because you're Harry," she answers promptly. She doesn't look so nervous now. "Because, with slight variations, what you love about me is what I love about you. Your courage, your heart, your brains. I even love your silly temper."

"You do?" I reach out and stroke a strand of her hair. It's soft, in contrast to its looks.

"Harry, do you think all that makes me your friend…could possibly make you want me as a girlfriend?"

Could it? I look at Hermione and my face is confused. I can tell because her eyes are starting to fill up. I have no idea what I'm doing will lead to but…I just hate seeing her cry.

I wipe away her tears with my thumb. "Hey, don't cry, Hermione."

"You don't love me," she whispers. "You don't…"

"Hermione, of course I do."

"Not as a girlfriend…just as a friend…"

"Hermione, stop putting yourself down. Who said I didn't love you as a girlfriend?"

"Wh-what?"

* * *

"Do you mean that, Harry?" I ask. I can barely believe my ears. He said he loved me. He said he loved me!

"W-well, let me try it out," he says. "I love you, Hermione." He pauses for a minute, looking as if deciding whether or not a foreign food is palatable to his mouth. And then he grins that silly little grin, the first real smile I've seen on him since June. "I love you, Hermione. Sounds good."

"Then repeat it." Honestly, Hermione, this clingy-girlfriend role does not suit you.

"I love you, Hermione."

Oh, dash it all. Who cares?

"I love you too, Harry."

My hand reaches out to grab the tie of his school uniform. I grab it and tickle his face with it. He laughs, and I laugh out any tears left.

And then I kiss him again.


End file.
